Small Worlds

by Caleb Azumah Nelson

I gaze at my parents, and see that a world can be two people, occupying a space where they don’t have to explain. Where they can feel beautiful. Where they might feel free.

To go back home is to wrangle with who you are against who everyone thinks you should be.

I’ve only known myself in song, in the space between the sounds we make to capture our quiet.

But I don’t sleep that night because to sleep with grief is not to sleep at all.

Grief never ends, but we find a way to walk in the light someone has left behind, rather than living in pain’s shadow.